Page 39 of Love Under Siege

We get back from training, and all I can think about is Anya’s letter from yesterday. It has me on edge, more than I want to admit. I haven’t been able to focus on anything all day. Every time I close my eyes, I see her words, and feel her fear. It’s like a knot in my chest that won’t loosen, no matter how hard I try to push it aside.

I can’t stop thinking about how scared she must be, how she’s trying to hold it together while the police drag their feet. It makes me sick that I’m here, training for situations just like this, while she’s out there dealing with a real threat on her own. The distance between us feels unbearable, like I’m failing her in the worst way possible.

During training today, I kept losing my focus. My mind drifted back to Anya and the dark cloud of that stalker hovering over her. Every time I tried to concentrate on the drills, images of her flashed in my mind: her smile, her laughter, and the way she looked at me with so much love and trust. It tore me apart to be stuck here while she faced that threat alone.

My Drill Sergeant noticed, of course. He has a knack for spotting weakness, and I could see the gears turning in his mind as he watched me fumble through my tasks. After a particularly rough round of exercises, he pulled me aside, his voice low but firm. “What’s going on, soldier? You’re not yourself.”

I knew I should open up to him; he was a mentor, someone who had been through hell and back. But the truth felt too heavy, too raw. I couldn’t lay bare the reality of my situation—not the whole truth, anyway. What would he think if I told him I was worried sick about Anya? That there was a man out there stalking her, making her life a living nightmare? I couldn't risk him thinking I was weak or unfocused because of a personal issue.

So, I gave him a half-truth, a vague excuse. “I’m having trouble concentrating,” I mumbled, the weight of my words feeling inadequate. “Just something personal on my mind.” I felt the disappointment in his eyes as he nodded, but I could see he wasn’t convinced. The flicker of concern crossed his face, but he didn’t push further, and I was grateful for that moment of reprieve.

He told me to get my head in the game or it would cost me. But how can I? How can I focus on drills and routines when the person I love most is in danger?

Every noise, every shadow today seemed to set me off. I was on high alert, my instincts screaming that I needed to do something, anything, to protect her. But there’s nothing I can do from here. I feel useless, and it’s driving me crazy. I need to be there for her, to make sure she’s safe. But instead, I’m stuck running through training exercises, pretending like everything’s normal when it’s anything but.

Tonight, I’m lying here in my bunk, staring at the ceiling, trying to figure out what to do. I’ve been thinking about reaching out to someone, seeing if there’s a way to speed things along, to get leave, or at least make sure the police are doing their job. I know it’s a long shot; the military doesn’t exactly bend the rules for small personal reasons.

As I lie there, a thought creeps in, gnawing at the edges of my resolve: what if something happens while I’m stuck here? What if I wait too long and I can’t get to her in time? The fear settles deep in my gut, mingling with the anger and frustration that have become my constant companions. I can’t let that happen. I refuse to be the reason she feels abandoned.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm the storm in my head. I need to think clearly, to come up with a plan.

The next morning, after another restless night, I made up my mind to talk to my drill sergeant. As I’m getting dressed, the sunlight streaming through the window reminds me of Anya’s smile, of the warmth I’m missing. It steels my resolve, igniting a fire within me. I can’t keep ignoring this. I can’t keep pretending.

I catch my drill sergeant after breakfast, just before we head out for the day’s training. I’m on edge, but I try to keep it together as I approach him. My heart pounds, the fear of judgment lingering in the back of my mind. What if he thinks I’m weak for letting my personal life interfere with my training? What if he dismisses my concerns as just another soldier being emotional?

But then I think of Anya, of the darkness closing in around her, and I know I can’t back down now. I’ve faced challenges before, but this feels different. This isn’t just about following orders or completing drills; this is about a life that matters deeply to me. So, I square my shoulders, take a deep breath, and prepare to lay it all on the line. It’s time to put my love for her above my fears, and if that means facing my drill sergeant’s judgment, then so be it.

“Excuse me Drill Sergeant, do you have a minute?” I ask, trying to keep my voice steady.

He gives me a sharp look, noticing the tension in my stance. “Make it quick, Private.”

I take a breath, trying to organize my thoughts. “It’s about the personal issue I mentioned yesterday. It’s... it’s gotten worse. My girlfriend, she’s in danger, and the police aren’t moving fast enough. I can’t focus knowing she’s out there dealing with this alone. I need to do something, but I’m stuck here.”

The Drill Sergeant’s expression softens just a bit, and he crosses his arms, thinking. “Jacob, I get that you’re worried, but you need to remember where you are and what you’re here to do. Your job is to stay focused and sharp, especially during training. If your mind is elsewhere, you’re a liability—not just to yourself, but to your unit.”

His words hit hard, but I know he’s right. Still, I can’t just let it go. “I understand that. But if something happens to her because I wasn’t there... I don’t know how I’ll live with that.”

The Drill Sergeant looks at me for a long moment, then sighs. “Look, Jacob, I can see you’re torn up about this, and I don’t blame you. But the reality is, you’re in the Army now, and we can’t always drop everything for personal reasons. That said, you’re no good to us if you’re distracted and unfocused. So, here’s what I suggest.”

I lean in, desperate for any advice he can give.

“First, write to her. Let her know you’re there for her, even from a distance. Sometimes, just knowing someone’s in your corner can make a world of difference. Second, if you can, contact someone in your hometown who might have some pull with the local authorities. See if they can push things along.”

I nod, taking it all in. It’s not much, but it’s something.

“Finally,” he continues, “you need to compartmentalize. I know that’s easier said than done, but when you’re out there training, you have to push everything else aside. Focus on the task at hand. When you’re off-duty, that’s when you deal with the personal stuff. But when you’re training, your mind needs to be right here, right now. Understand?”

“Yes, Drill Sergeant,” I say, though the knot in my chest hasn’t loosened much.

The Drill Sergeant places a hand on my shoulder, his voice firm but not unkind. “I know it’s tough, Jacob, but you’ll get through this. Stay strong for her, but also stay strong for yourself. She’s counting on you, and so are we. Don’t let either of us down.”

I nod again, a bit more resolved now. “Thank you, Sergeant.”

“Anytime. Now, square yourself away. We’ve got work to do.”

As I walk away, I feel a little more grounded, but the worry is still there, simmering beneath the surface. The Drill Sergeant’s advice is solid, but it doesn’t change the fact that Anya is out there, vulnerable and scared. However, talking to him did help, I realized that sharing my struggle didn’t make me weak; it made me human. Opening up about my worries takes courage. Everyone struggles with something, and there is nothing weak about that.

After hours of running drills and exercises, I sat on the edge of my bunk, the cramped space feeling even tighter than usual. The day’s training had been brutal, and my mind had been a mess of worry and frustration. I managed to keep my composure during drills and commands, but now, alone in my bunk, the tension hit me in full force.

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